“I trust you,” I said again, and his mouth was against mine as he hands grabbed at my hair, holding me tight as our tongues danced against each other. We kissed as he continued fucking me, moving so slowly inside of me that at times he was barely moving.
Every time his cock slid in and out, I could feel it against my clit, and it sent waves of intense pleasure pulsating through my body.
Finally, he broke away from the kiss.
“Come on me,” he whispered, and the sound of his voice, the want, the need that was there was enough to push me over the edge. I came on him, and a second later, I felt him shoot inside of me, filling me up while I orgasmed.
I collapsed onto the counter, spent, and he laid his body on top of me, strong and warm and safe. After a moment, he picked me up in his arms and began carrying me into the bedroom.
“Noah!” I protested, burying my face in his neck. “We can’t go back to bed.”
“Why not?”
“It’s the middle of the day.”
He set me down carefully on the bed, brushed my hair away from my face and kissed my lips. “I don’t care.”
We climbed under the covers and he wrapped his arms around me, making me feel safe and protected. I couldn’t understand how anyone could think this man was capable of murder. When I was with him, I felt like nothing could hurt me – that not only would he never harm me, but he would protect me from anything that might cause me pain.
We lay there for a moment, him holding me, his hands tracing a line from my shoulder down my arm, and back up, over and over again until I started to feel drowsy. I closed my eyes and after a while felt sleep starting to pull me under.
“I’m sorry,” Noah said, his voice pulling me back awake.
“What?”
“I’m sorry.” He reached out and took my hand in his, intertwining our fingers.
“For what?” I asked.
“For not listening to you.”
“Not listening to me about what?”
There was a rustling of sheets, and Noah propped himself up on his arm, looking down at me. “Look at me,” he said.
I turned so I was lying on my side and gazed up at him.
He looked down at me, slid his other hand under the sheets and across my stomach, wrapped it around my waist and stroked my hip. Just his touch was enough to get me hot again, and I took a deep breath and tried to slow my heart rate. We were about to have what sounded like a real conversation, and I wasn’t going to let my stupid hormones get in the way of that.
“You said you wanted to get closer to me, you said you didn’t want this to just be about sex. And I made it all about me. I took you to that club.”
“No, it was… I mean, I liked going to that club.”
He shook his head, the tips of his fingers still grazing my hip bone, moving in a soft, slow, circle. “I’m glad. But I want to make sure your needs are being met, too, Charlotte. You need to trust me because you know I have your best interests in mind, that I would never hurt you. And part of that is me doing things to make you happy.”
“I’m happy. I mean, I’ve been happy being with you. But I want… I want to get to know you,” I said. “I feel so close to you when we’re… when we’re doing that kind of sex stuff, and I want to keep doing it, but I want to know you better, too.”
He nodded, his grip on my hip tightening. “It’s extremely difficult for me.”
“And it’s extremely difficult for me to trust you enough to let you do the things you’ve been doing to me.”
I saw a flicker of displeasure cross his face, and I could tell he didn’t like me saying I didn’t trust him. I remembered how he made me say I trust him while he was fucking me, how it excited him.
“Why is it so hard for you?” I asked gently.
He took a deep breath and his jaw clenched. “Everyone I’ve ever let in has left.”
The statement was so simple, so clear, that for a moment, I wasn’t sure what to say back.
“Nora?” I asked finally.
He flinched at her name, and his face set again, and I was afraid his walls were going to come back up. But then he nodded. “Nora. My father. My mother. My brother.”
“Oh.” I wanted to ask him if his family was dead, like Nora, or if it was something else. But I could tell from the pain in his voice that it was extremely hard for him to talk about this, and I didn’t want to push him too hard.
“Are you close with your family, Charlotte?” he asked me.
I thought about it. “I’m close with my sister,” I said finally. “My mother and I have a complicated relationship.”
“And your father?”
“He died when I was sixteen.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” It was the standard response I gave whenever anyone said they were sorry about my dad. It had never made sense to me, people saying they were sorry. How could they be so sorry when they never even knew him?
“Charlotte,” Noah said, running his hand up my side. “I’m sorry about your father.”
I just nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I sent a silent prayer that Noah wouldn’t ask me how my father died, that I wouldn’t have to relive those horrible moments, even just in memory.
“And your mother? What does that mean, you have a complicated relationship?”
“It means that it’s complicated. I love her, but I’m not sure I like her.”
This made Noah smile. “Why don’t you like her?”
“She’s made some life choices that I don’t agree with. And she expects me to just accept her for them, and yet when I make choices she doesn’t agree with, she has no problem telling me that I’m ruining my life. Plus she remarried after my dad died, and I don’t care much for my stepfather.”
“Why? Did he hurt you?” Noah demanded.
“What? No. He’s just sort of … an asshole. I’m supposed to be going to his birthday party tomorrow night. It wasn’t a good night for anyone, but he insisted on it because it had to be on his actual birthday.” I shook my head, realizing what a baby I sounded like. “Anyway.”
I reached out and touched Noah’s chest, letting my fingers linger on his pecs, his shoulders, his abs. Now that we weren’t caught up in a frenzy of lust, I had time to feel him, really feel him, and appreciate how firm and fit his body was.
“I’d like to go with you,” Noah said, his voice serious and quiet.
My hands stopped at his biceps. “To the party?”
“Yes. If it’s all right.”
“Sure,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “That would be nice.”
He nodded, like it was all settled.
I settled back into the crook of his arm, and he pulled me against him and kissed me on the forehead.
“What time is it?” I murmured.
He rolled over and looked at the clock. “It’s almost two.”
“Crap,” I said. “I have a meeting with Professor Worthington soon. About your case.” I moaned. “I’m so not in the mood for that.”
“What are you in the mood for, Charlotte?” he asked, pulling my hips into his.